


Anti-kink: D/S

by ash_carpenter



Series: Anti-kink [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:46:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_carpenter/pseuds/ash_carpenter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wow, I've really been slack with this... Next cross-posting of anti-kink fic  (series archived <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=ash_carpenter&keyword=Anti-kink&filter=all">here</a> on LJ)! </p>
<p>Amazingly, both Sam and Dean are on the same page that they want to try out dominance and submission. However, there may have been a slight misunderstanding about who gets to be the dom...</p>
<p>A/N: This fic owes a debt to Yellow Fever as we see a return of Dean's ghost sickness :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anti-kink: D/S

  
**D/S**   


Anyone who knew the Winchesters well would say (in the unlikely event that they were still alive) that while the boys might be smart, they weren’t fast learners.

True to form, Sam had pretty much forgotten the ill-fated bondage session that had left Dean pissed off for being cast in the “subby” role and Sam with a bruised – if not broken – nose.

“How about some D/S?”

Dean blinked slowly, mind rattling off increasingly unlikely possibilities. Donut stuffing? Danish strippers? Dingo salad?

“Okay, I give in,” he replied eventually, shaking his head.

With an affectionate eye-roll, muttering something about being vanilla, Sam elaborated. “Dominance and submission. I thought it was about time we tried something new.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we haven’t had a good injury for a while,” agreed Dean sarcastically. “Sam, we’re working a case.”

“Dude, he broke his neck falling off a stepladder.”

“Yeah, because a ghost scared him.”

“It’s not like it leaped out and shouted “boo”. It was just bad timing,” argued Sam. “Easy salt and burn, and we’re done.”

Dean sighed. Sam was probably right, but on the other hand it was fairly rare for either of them to pronounce a job “easy” and not end up in dire peril of one variety or another. Murphy’s Law should have been named Winchester’s Law.

“If you say so...”

“Look, we’ll check out the corpse before we torch the spirit, okay? Just to be sure. But then we’re having kinky sex, damn it.”

Dean couldn’t argue with that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean whistled as he sliced open Eric Mackay, all too aware that he was being inappropriately cheerful for a guy hacking away at a corpse.

But hey, it wasn’t his fault! He was going to get his dom on. Oh yeah. He was going to make his gorgeous little brother shut the hell up for once and cater to every little whim he could think of. He was going to tell Sam to suck him off and then bend over the nearest available surface and then he was going to fuck him hard, and Sam was going to just take it. And _love_ it.

He was hard just thinking about it, which...Ew! Corpse! He actually had wood while he was wrist deep in a dead dude’s chest cavity.

The thought killed his erection pretty quickly.

Still, he was fairly sure that Eric had simply unluckily broken his neck trying to scramble off the step ladder and away from the ghost (and, yeah, it was a three-rung ladder and it was just the ghost of a little girl, but there was nothing supernatural about the fact that old Eric was apparently a total pussy). There was nothing weird about his body or organs which would seem to indicate anything supernatural going on. Which meant that they could hotfoot it to the cemetery, burn the bones (because it was better to lay the girl to rest if she was going to keep popping up and startling people), skip a few towns over and then get on with the ass-fucking!

Sam was so going to be his bitch. Awesome.

As Dean pulled his hand out of the body’s chest, he realised that his glove was broken and that his skin was covered in gore.

Winchester’s Law, dude. Sucktastic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“See, told you it would be easy.”

“If was all so easy and straightforward, then why did you make me stick my fist in a corpse and get it all gross and gooey?”

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head slightly at the visual. “Okay, I just asked you to make sure his heart looked normal. Anything else you did with the unfortunate Mr. Mackay is your own business.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at him. “Alright, smartass. You wanna get laid or not?”

“Only if you’ve washed your hands...”

Dean threw his pillow at him. “We getting it on or what?”

Sam grinned. “Hell yeah.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam had frankly been astonished that Dean had agreed to his D/S idea with nothing more than the stipulation that there was to be “no leather, chains or other Marilyn Manson crap”. Although Sam didn’t really know why Dean knew who Manson was or why he’d associated him specifically with edge sexual practices, he’d quickly acquiesced, delighted that it had been so easy to get Dean onboard.

It was rapidly becoming clear that there had been a slight misunderstanding.

“Dude, what?”

“I said, get on your knees.”

“Yeah, I heard you. But _what_?”

“What do you mean, what?”

“You’re not supposed to be telling _me_ what to do!”

“Uh, yeah I am. Do you need me to Google this for you again?”

“No, Sam, I understood it just fine. The dom tells the sub what to do and he obeys.”

“Yeah, exactly. So get on your knees.”

“I’m the dom, asshat!”

Sam knew it had been too easy.

Pulling himself up to his full height, he crossed his arms over his broad chest and raised his eyebrows at Dean, rather amused in spite of his annoyance. “Now why would you think _you_ were the dom?”

Not even slightly intimidated, knowing that one strategic tickle to the hollow just below his ribcage on the right hand side would have Sam squealing like a little girl and crying uncle, Dean gave Sam his very best ‘don’t be a moron’ face. “I’m the oldest.”

“God, Dean! You gotta stop pulling this older brother crap when we’re talking about fucking!”

“I certainly will not.”

“What are you, twelve?” fumed Sam, stamping his foot on the floor.

“So says the giant toddler having a tantrum...”

“I’m so obviously the dom,” he insisted stubbornly.

“Sam, it doesn’t matter how big and tough you get – nothing’s gonna change the fact that you’re the little brother. And little brothers do what their big brothers tell them or they get their asses kicked. It’s the way the world turns, man.”

“Which world’s that, Dean? The special incestuous, gay world?”

Dean didn’t deign to reply and Sam sighed harshly. The thing was, no matter what happened between them or how sexually involved they got or even how in love with each other they were, Dean still saw them as brothers above all else. Inflexible asshole.

“You like being spanked,” Sam pointed out in a flash of inspiration, giving Dean time to mutter the obligatory denial before continuing. “You might like being a sub too.”

“So might you.”Sam didn’t think so. However, he had to play this tactically. “Yeah, sure. So, how about we both take a turn? You be the sub first, and then I’ll have a try.”

Dean stared at him incredulously. “You didn’t really think that was gonna work, did you?”

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Screw you.”

Okay, it was time for the big guns. He stuck his lower lip out slightly and gave Dean the puppy eyes of doom from underneath his bangs. “Please?”

Dean glared resolutely for a moment, before there was a definite wavering, soon followed by a complete crumbling of his conviction. Really, he should have built up an immunity by now. He needed to buy Sam some of those glasses like Cyclops from the X-Men wore to protect everyone from his mutant powers.

Dean deflated, mentally kicking himself for being such a pushover. He shook his head reproachfully at Sam.

“That’s so not cool.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, so I guess we need to talk about this whole thing before tonight,” began Sam seriously.

“How do you mean?”

“Well. For a start, I need to know what your safeword is.”

“My _safeword_? Are you joking?”

“Dean, this is serious. I need to know if you want me to stop.”

“Okay...So, if I say ‘stop’, then stop.”

“What? That’s stupid!”

“In what way is that stupid?”

“Well, you’re gonna wanna say ‘stop’ and ‘no’, so that I can ignore you.”

Dean stared at him in incomprehension.

“Look, it’ll be hot. Trust me.”

“Sick freak.”

“No, Dean. Listen, this whole D/S thing is about love and trust. We’ll be roleplaying, and I might hurt you, but really I just want to take care of you, which is why we need the safeword, and...” He trailed off. Now, what had _Cosmopolitan_ said again? He was sure he must have remembered incorrectly, because what he was saying seemed pretty dumb.

“Have you been reading _Cosmo_ again?”

“What? No,” snapped Sam defensively.

“All that dewy-eyed love and trust mumbo-jumbo is just plain crap. You want to get off on ordering me around like a little bitch, and that’s fine. But don’t try to pretend that you’re fulfilling my needs like I’m some delicate flower and you’re my super-caring, sensitive boyfriend. Douchebag.”

Sam clenched his jaw. “Fine. But you still need a safeword.” As Dean’s eyes lit up with a bright idea and he opened his mouth, Sam quickly interjected with a firm, “And no, it can’t be ‘Metallica’.”

Dean’s face fell and then he glared. “You know what? How about this: if I don’t like what you’re doing, and you don’t stop when I tell you to, I’ll just punch you in the nuts.”

Sam was silent for a moment, weighing whether Dean was serious. But being punched in the nuts really wasn’t the kind of thing he was willing to gamble on. “Okay, fine, no safeword.”

“Good.”

“Next: what about –”

“ _Next_?” interrupted Dean. “What, you have a damned list?”

“No!” shouted Sam. Well, only a short one, anyway. But given Dean’s complete unreasonableness, maybe he’d just limit himself to one last question. “What are you going to call me?”

“Uh...Sam?”

“No, you have to call me a respectful name like...Master. Dean. Dean, stop laughing. Oh, will you just shut up?! You’re going to hyperventilate if you keep going like that. Fine, not Master. What about Sir?”

Dean sobered almost instantly, wiping away the stray tears that had sprung to his eyes during the recent hilarity. “Dude, who’s the only person we’ve ever called Sir?”

“Dad. Oh...I see.”

“Yeah. You really wanna be thinking of him when you’re fucking my ass...?”

“Dean! Gross! God, you’re...”

“What?”

“You’re the worst sub ever.”

“Yeah, and you’re the worst dom ever. Who the fuck wants to _talk_ instead of just ordering his sub to suck his dick? Loser.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. Sometimes it occurred to him that he really did prefer his brother when he was asleep. Maybe the next kink they tried should involve gags. “Okay! We’ll get to that later. Why don’t we just eat first?” Dean would probably be more agreeable once he’d been fed.

“Cool. But not that diner down the street – it didn’t look very sanitary.”

Sam’s forehead crinkled as Dean headed for the door. He’d seen his brother pick chilli cheese fries up off the _floor_ and eat them, and now he was worried that a diner might be violating a few health codes?

Weird.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam finally – _finally!_ – had Dean on his knees.

He gripped his chin, tilting his face up and bringing it within a bare inch of his denim-covered crotch, which was more than interested in the sight of Dean’s beautiful face staring up passively and awaiting further instruction. He leaned forward and rubbed his cock up against Dean’s mouth, looking down at his completely naked, kneeling body.

“Gorgeous...Okay, now I want you to –”

“Lube.”

Sam faltered. “What?”

“We’re out of lube. You forgot to get more.”

“Me? Why’s it always my...You know what, never mind. We can just use something else.”

“Fuck you. I’m doing whatever you want here, but you’d better believe that doesn’t include sticking that thing inside me without appropriate lubrication. It’s not safe.”

Sam sighed, fighting his irritation and wondering what the hell had gotten into his brother; normally, spit and lust were more than adequate. But it wasn’t fair of him to make a fuss because it was true, Dean _was_ pandering to him. He’d just have to suck it up and go across the street to CVS. He would try sending Dean, but he’d worked hard to get him naked and obedient, damn it, and he wasn’t letting him get away.

“Fine. I’ll be gone like five minutes. But you’re staying _right here_ , got it? You’re not allowed to move.” He shook Dean’s chin for emphasis, tangling the other hand in his hair and tugging.

“Yeah, okay, I got it,” murmured Dean, and Sam could tell that he was trying not to sound turned on. Considering the fact that his naked dick was bobbing in the air, it wasn’t all that effective.

Cursing softly, Sam left Dean on his knees and tore out of the motel room and to the store, shirt buttoned up wrongly and shoes unfastened, which almost led to an unfortunate incident involving the revolving doors.

After frantically searching for some plain, unflavoured lube – he and his cock had learned their lesson, thank you very much – in the maze of aisles, knocking over a condom display and being mistaken for a store clerk by a sixty year old woman looking for the feminine hygiene section, Sam finally accomplished his mission. He didn’t even care how skanky he looked running from the store to the skeevy motel, barely dressed and brandishing his lube with as much triumph as if he’d just extracted Excalibur.

He was already mostly erect again just from imagining Dean still kneeling. Grinning, he burst into the motel room.

Dean jumped guiltily off the bed, grabbing for the remote and trying to shut off the television. After accidentally adjusting the brightness, changing channels and raising the volume to ear-splitting levels, he finally managed it.

“Uh, hi.”

“Dean!” yelled Sam, trying to sound angry but getting closer to petulant. “You were supposed to stay on your knees!”

“Right! Sorry.” Dean shrugged awkwardly. “Look...Okay, wait. Just...go out and come back in again. I’ll be on my knees this time.”

Sam gaped at him. “What? No! That’s not how this works! You can’t just _pretend_ that you obeyed me.”

“Well, Sam, I don’t know what to tell you,” shrugged Dean. It wasn’t like he could turn back time.

“You’re the worst sub ever.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s ‘cause I’m supposed to be the dom.”

“Can we not start this again?” huffed Sam, pointing the tube of lubricant at Dean. “You need to start behaving. Just...come over here and undress me.”

“That’s not oil-based, is it?” asked Dean, frowning at the lube as he walked towards his brother.

“What?”

“The lube. We need a water-based one.”

“Uh...Why?”

Dean stopped in his tracks, an irritating inch out of arm’s reach. He looked shocked. Scandalised, even.

“Why, Sam? _Why_? Because oil-based lubricants can increase slippage and breakage of condoms. They’re not safe!”

Sam frowned at his strange – and, clearly, stupid – brother. “We don’t use condoms.”

“Well, we should,” exclaimed Dean. “Think of the risk we’re taking! What if one of us has an infection?!”

“Okay, firstly, we bleed all over each other nearly every week.” He watched, astonished, as Dean pulled a face of disgust. He’d seen Dean with both of their blood smeared all over his hands and face on a fairly regular basis for almost as long as he could remember. “Secondly, we’re not fucking anyone else, so where are we gonna get an infection from?”

“It’s just unsanitary,” muttered Dean, mouth still pursed in a prissy moue of distaste.

“Wait, you’re _not_ fucking anyone else, right?” asked Sam, suddenly panicked. And no, of course Dean wasn’t, because he wouldn’t do that and also because he could barely take a piss without Sam being aware of it so cheating would be kinda challenging, but still... “Dean?”

“No! Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just saying that we should be a little safer in future.”

Sam shook his head in confused exasperation. “Okay, fine...Can we stop talking and fuck now, please?”

“Have you showered?”

“Have I...Dean, what the hell?”

“Just asking. Human sweat carries germs, you know.”

“No it doesn’t. Moron.”

“Oh...Well, it’s still not hygienic.”

“Me coming in your ass probably isn’t “hygienic” either, but I’m still gonna do that.”

“What?!” Dean squeaked, backing another pace away.

“Okay, dude? What’s wrong with you?”

Dean shook his head, seemingly confused himself. “I don’t know. Sorry. Just forget it. So...On with the ass-fucking?”

Shaking his head, chalking the entire incident up to unfathomable Dean weirdness, Sam tried to get himself back in the game. “Okay, I want you to get on your knees...Good...Now,” he purred, looking down at his hot brother. “Crawl towards me.”

Dean started laughing. “Ha, ha, awesome. As if I’d...Oh wait, you’re serious.”

“Dean!” whined Sam. “Stop laughing! Of course I’m serious.”

“Dude, I’m not crawling!”

“Why not?”

“Well, because it’s stupid. And have you seen this floor?! Filthy.”

Not quite sure when Dean turned into a clean freak, Sam pouted. Dean was ruining the whole thing; was he incapable of just doing what he was told and being sexy? Idiot.

Sam decided to up the ante; after all, Dean was usually up for a challenge and if Sam pushed him he’d hopefully get with the program.

He closed the distance between him and his kneeling brother and slapped him around the face. “You’re gonna do what you’re told.”

Dean gaped at him, eyes huge and wounded. After a couple of beats, his hand flew to his face over-dramatically. “OW!!!!!!!! You just...You _hit_ me! That hurt!”

“What?” faltered Sam. Two days ago, Sam had punched Dean in the face for eating their last donut and he’d just laughed and made a show of licking the box.

Dean’s lip wibbled and Sam instinctively reached forward to comfort him. Dean flinched away from him with a whimper and shuffled into the corner, sitting in a pathetic little huddle.

“Dean? Are you okay?”

“Stay away from me! You...bully!”

Sam gawped at Dean. He actually sounded...scared. What the hell?

Something was seriously wrong with this picture.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, thanks Bobby. That’s awesome; you’re a lifesaver. Yeah, yeah, I know. We’re morons.”

As Sam hung up the phone, he turned towards a now fully-dressed Dean, who was staring in horror at the TV. Sam saw that it was the commercial with the fabric softener teddy bear and he quickly moved to switch off the set.

That seemed to bring Dean out of his fearful trance and his eyes flew to Sam. “So?”

“So...That little girl we torched? Wasn’t really the core problem. More of a...coincidence.”

“Okay. And?”

“She was just a run-of-the-mill spirit, non-vengeful, been happily haunting the house for years. Very low-key. But, see, Eric Mackay, saw her manifestation and was so scared that he fell down and accidentally broke his neck. Apparently, his wife feels real guilty about the whole thing because he didn’t even want to go up the ladder – felt that three rungs was too high.”

Dean shook his head. “So? Help me out here, man.”

“Eric Mackay was suddenly becoming terrified of everything around him. He had ghost sickness.”

“Ghost sickness,” Dean deadpanned. “Are you telling me that I have ghost sickness – _again_?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, well that’s just fucking fantastic! That is the last time I fist a corpse.”

“Yeah, I think that not fisting corpses is a good idea in general, Dean.”

“So where did he get it from?”

“Bobby did some digging and thinks it was this guy Eric used to work with. Died last month in a skydiving accident; some ass was horsing around with him before he’d put on his chute and accidentally shoved him out of the plane.”

“Wow...Unlucky. So that’s why I don’t have any symptoms this time?”

“Exactly. He had a slow, terrifying death – knowing that he was gonna hit the ground for the whole of his freefall – but he didn’t sustain any injuries until...splat. So it’s not like Luther’s road-rash.”

“Good. Wait – are you saying I’m gonna go splat?!”

“No, no,” comforted Sam. “You’re just gonna get increasingly pee-your-pants scared until your heart stops.”

“Oh, well that’s okay then,” returned Dean sarcastically. He placed a hand over his chest – oh God, his heart was pounding already!

Sam grinned. “Don’t worry about it, man. Guy was already cremated but Bobby figured out that the impact site had some leftover DNA so he’s gonna go torch the field tonight. You’ll be fine.”

Dean nodded slowly. “I can’t believe this happened again.”

“Yeah, well...You shouldn’t be such a dick,” shrugged Sam.

“I’m not a dick! I wasn’t being a dick! I didn’t even say anything; I mean, I was alone in a room with a dead guy.”

“Well, you must have been doing something.”

“Nothing! I was checking his organs...and then got grossed out because I’d been thinking about ordering you around and...” He glared at Sam. “That’s it! This is _so_ your fault!”

“What? How’s it _my_ fault?”

“You said we were gonna do that D/S thing – and I’d _obviously_ assumed I’d be the dom – and so I was thinking about the stuff I was gonna do to you! No wonder I caught ghost sickness.”

Sam thought about that for a moment. “You were thinking about fucking me when you were performing an autopsy...?”

“Shut up. That’s not the point. God, you’re such an ass.”

“Whatever, dude. Anyway, I guess we’ll put the whole dom thing on hold for now since you’ve caught pussy disease again.”

Dean was about to retort when a car backfired outside and he leaped out of his seat with a startled cry. Sam laughed at him. The sickness was so much more amusing this time when he knew that Dean would be okay.

“Do something useful and help take my mind off it,” insisted Dean in a voice that was just a shade too scared to be demanding.

Sam raised his eyebrow and his gaze slid into lascivious. He practically purred, “Well, if you insist...”

He made his way over to Dean and then shoved him on the bed before kneeling on it, slowly crawling his way up towards his brother. When he reached him, he pushed him flat to the mattress and then settled above him, kissing his neck. “This distracting enough for you?”

Dean hummed a little, wrapping his arms around Sam and ducking his head to seek out his mouth, pressing their lips together. Sam parted Dean’s lips with his tongue and pushed his hips down, grinding their crotches together. When Dean moaned and pressed up against him, Sam lowered himself to rest his weight on Dean, wanting the full body contact.

“Sam!” squeaked Dean, suddenly squirming and pushing at his chest.

“What?!” asked Sam, alarmed.

“You’re going to squash me! I won’t be able to breathe and I might suffocate!”

Sam took a moment to quash his irritation and gave Dean a small smile and a little nod. He hoped there weren’t going to be many interruptions. “Why don’t we roll over and you can lay on me?”

“Okay,” breathed Dean in relief and Sam shifted them around until he was lying on the bed and Dean was on top of him, their groins slotted together and Dean’s thighs squeezing against Sam’s hips.

“Yeah,” murmured Sam, sliding one hand into Dean’s hair and tugging him down for a kiss. He slid the other down Dean’s back and grabbed hold of his ass, pulling him even closer and groping at the firm, flexing muscle. “God, you’re so hot. I can’t wait to fuck you.”

Sam winced as Dean’s hands tightened around his waist and he abruptly sat up, shaking his head and looking like a deer in headlights.

“What is it?” gasped Sam.

“You can’t put that thing in me. It’ll hurt.”

Sam’s jaw dropped and he stammered uncertainly, “Uh...well...it doesn’t usually hurt, does it?”

“It might this time.” He gingerly poked at Sam’s cock where it was straining against the denim. “Look at it. My ass isn’t that big. It’s not going to fit. I mean, really, it’s not _designed_ to fit. We probably shouldn’t be putting things like that places where they were never supposed to go in the first place.”

Sam couldn’t really argue that men’s dicks probably weren’t supposed to go in their brothers’ asses, but he kinda felt that Dean was missing the point. The point being that Sam really, _really_ wanted to get laid. He gave Dean his very best reasonable and placating look and rubbed a soothing hand over his back. “Okay. Well, why don’t you go on top? Then you definitely won’t get hurt.”

Dean wrinkled his nose. “You know, now that I think about it, why would I want to put my dick in your _ass_? I mean, that’s pretty gross, right?”

Sam huffed agitatedly. “You don’t usually mind.”

“Just plain weird, is what it is. We do this crazy job where we hunt monsters – and then obviously no sane person wants anything to do with us. We travel around all the time, so all we have is each other. And then –”

Sam banged his head down on his pillow, reaching up to put his hand across Dean’s mouth. “Dean? Stop. I know what you’re gonna say, but we don’t fuck each other because we have no-one else. We do it because we’re hot for each other.”

Dean paused, cocking his head to the side. He waited for Sam to move his hand and the said, “Yeah, well. I guess you are pretty hot.”

“So, don’t you want to bang me?” asked Sam, giving a teasing smile.

“I guess,” agreed Dean, before pointing at his brother. “But I’m wearing a condom and I’m not putting my fingers in your ass. Ew.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but at this point he’d take whatever he could get. “Fine. Now shut up and kiss me.”

Sadly for Sam, Dean’s symptoms were getting worse. By the time they were naked, a loud storm was starting up outside and a clap of thunder startled Dean so much that he fell off the bed and refused to get back on, proclaiming it “too dangerous”.

He was so worried about the germy state of the floor that even after Sam put the bed covers down as protection, he was in such a state that his erection had withered away.

“This is hopeless!” lamented Sam, flopping down on the floor and watching as Dean crept up to the window and cast a terrified peek out at the torrential downpour. A flash of lightning had him uttering a high-pitched squeak and dashing back and attempting to hide behind Sam.

Sighing, accepting that his balls were going to remain blue until the ghost sickness was cured, Sam took pity on Dean and pulled him close, kissing the end of his nose. “Do you want to build a fort?”

Dean nodded shamefacedly.

Twenty minutes later, they’d created a comfy nest of pillows and blankets, the bedsheet stretched between the bed and the table above them, and a flashlight giving the space a comforting glow. They snuggled together, Dean tucked into Sam’s side and clinging desperately to him.

“I love you, Sammy.”

Sam grinned. “Man...I can’t wait to use all of this against you when you’re back to normal.”

As Dean drifted off into a slightly fitful sleep, Sam recalled what had happened after the last bout of ghost sickness. Dean had been so embarrassed that he’d strutted around, channelling all his testosterone and being far more bullish and bossy than usual, overcompensating like crazy.

Sam had a feeling that he might wake up to find a _very_ dominating Dean on his hands, holding him down and telling him what to do, being rough and commanding...

Sam shivered a little, dick giving an enthusiastic twitch. Maybe being the sub would be fun after all.

THE END


End file.
